


like a lifetime and a second all at once

by groundopenwide



Category: Bastille (Band)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, that is...if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:26:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24476464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/groundopenwide/pseuds/groundopenwide
Summary: Charlie likes to disappear. This time, Dan isn’t going to let him.
Relationships: Charlie Barnes/Dan Smith
Comments: 10
Kudos: 24





	like a lifetime and a second all at once

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday charlie ♥

Whenever they aren’t touring, Charlie likes to disappear.

Dan doesn’t blame him. It’s overwhelming, spending weeks on end cramped together on tour buses and airplanes just so they can play the same songs over and over every night. Songs that Charlie’s not even had a hand in writing. Having to spend the majority of his time playing someone else’s songs instead of his own—it must be weird. And a little (or a lot) disheartening. Dan can’t even imagine it. 

Charlie’s got his own music to work on during their downtime. And he’s got Luna. Dan forgets, sometimes, that not everyone is like him. They’ve all got people and pets and commitments outside of the band. They don’t have to bury themselves in work to give their lives meaning. They’re normal.

So yeah, he doesn’t blame Charlie for going MIA. Of course he doesn’t.

But sometimes—well. Sometimes Dan’s been home for too long, and the third or fourth week rolls around, and he finds himself hoping for things. Things like a text from Charlie. A post from him on twitter. His name in the comments section of Instagram Live. His advice on a lyric Dan can’t get quite right.

Then they end up back on tour again like always, and Charlie is there, smiling and laughing his frankly ridiculous laugh and telling them about the dumb things Luna got up to while he was home, and everything is fine. It’s like those three or four weeks never happened. Charlie might drop off the face of the planet, but he always comes back. Always. There’s comfort in that.

It’s different this time around. 

They don’t know when they’ll all be together again, when it’ll be safe to gather in echoey arenas and play music and share the mouth of the same Jameson bottle. It’s been three months, maybe more, and Dan’s got his livestreams and his film club, his weekly video chats with Kyle and the frequent snaps of Woody’s kids rolling around in the grass and the occasional text from Will. All he’s gotten from Charlie is radio silence.

“I’m going to have a bandmate of yours on here,” Ralph tells him in the middle of their Sunday Session. “Charlie Barnes.”

“Oh,” Dan says, and there’s an unfamiliar sour taste in his mouth—jealousy, perhaps?

_I’ve not even asked him. Why haven’t I asked?_

_He probably wouldn’t have agreed anyway—he likes his space, he’d have reached out if he wanted—_

They’ve got the NASA stream coming up, and Dan manages to corral Will and Woody and Kyle onto Zoom at the same time, even gets Armbruster to join them from the States. The thought does cross his mind, fleetingly— _I could ask him—but would he even say yes?—_ before it crumbles like soft dirt between his fingers.

They’re all laughing at the old, stupid photo from inside NASA headquarters. 

“I thought that was Charlie,” Armbruster says, and everyone laughs even harder.

Then it _is_ Charlie, right there in the new photo Kyle’s sent, all of them in those horrendous white suits, and it’s like a punch in the gut—a vacuum sucking all the air from Dan’s lungs—the phantom, pulsing ache beneath an ancient scar—

The comments all read the same: _Charlie_ and _stream_ and _Saturday, please._

 _It can be an early birthday celebration,_ they say, and Dan thinks, _he won’t want to waste his birthday weekend on us_ —

He sends the text anyway, even if it makes his heart beat triple-time in his chest. Charlie’s reply is almost immediate:

_(16:32)_

_People want to see me? I don’t believe you_

_(16:33)_

_But it’d be cool to hang with you all. Count me in!_

And then he’s...there. Right there on the screen, waxing poetic about the Lichfield Cathedral like the absolute nerd he is, with a wine glass in hand and a giant smile on his face. It’s only been three months, but in that split-second, it feels like it’s been ages. Like Dan’s lived a thousand lives between then and now. Like he knew Charlie once, centuries ago, and is only just now meeting him again for the first time. 

“It’s nice to see all of you,” Charlie says. 

His voice is soft. Too soft. Like he’s afraid to say it. Like he’s worried he’s not allowed to have...missed them?

There’s a sharp feeling inside Dan’s chest. 

“It’s been a long time,” someone says. 

“February—” Charlie says, “—London Palladium—”

 _I’m sorry,_ Dan thinks, _I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner._

He waits until the next day to call. It’s just him this time. No other band members or random fans. Just him thumbing open Charlie’s underused contact and pressing the call button, listening to it ring and ring and ring.

“Dan.” Charlie sounds surprised. “Hey.”

“Hey. I just—I wanted to say happy birthday.”

“Oh! Right, thanks.”

“Do you have any pandemic-proof plans?”

Charlie laughs, high-pitched as ever. A smile pulls at Dan’s mouth. 

“No. No, not really. Me and Luna might watch one of your space films.”

“Which one?”

_“Wall-E.”_

“A great choice.”

“I think so.”

There’s a long moment of silence. Dan takes a breath. 

“It was...good seeing you yesterday.”

“Yeah. It was cool. Thanks again for the invite.”

“Sorry I didn’t—I wish I’d—” Dan huffs, running a hand over the top of his head. “I should have invited you sooner.”

“Oh. Hey, that’s alright. You’ve got loads of friends who know way more about films than me—I get it.”

He’s clearly teasing. Guilt still tears at Dan’s insides like acid burn.

“Honestly, I—didn’t think you’d want to,” he says eventually.

“Why not?”

“You always disappear. Which is fine, I mean—I’d be sick of us, too, if I were you.”

“That’s not—” Charlie starts. Stops. “I don’t want to overstep.”

“Overstep?”

“I’m just the touring guy.”

“You’re not,” Dan insists. “You’re not just that.”

Charlie falls silent for a moment. Dan pictures him curled up on the sofa, scratching behind Luna’s ears with that thoughtful look he gets whenever he’s practiced a guitar bit for too long. A bolt of missing him suddenly hits Dan hard enough that he jolts.

“It’s weird, not talking to you for so long,” he says aloud.

“I’m sorry,” Charlie tells him. “About the disappearing thing.”

“Sorry I let you get away with it.”

Charlie laughs, softer this time. When he speaks again, his voice is wistful, almost far away.

“Miss you, mate.”

“Yeah,” Dan agrees quietly. “Miss you too.” 

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://goodlesson.tumblr.com)


End file.
